Chapter 20 Emi #2
Wanting to feel the silky petals and plush carpet on my bare feet, I step out of my sandals and make my way to the bed. More petals surround a white envelope with my name scrawled on the front. My hands begin to shake as I pick it up. I’d recognize that handwriting anywhere.
It’s my father’s.
Thoroughly confused—it doesn’t make sense that my dad would set up an elaborately romantic setting just to correspond with me—I don’t waste time in opening it up to get to the letter inside.
My Dearest Emmélie,
Words cannot express how sorry I am for how I acted the night of the gala.
It was not fair to anyone involved, especially you.
In truth, I did not act honorably long before that night.
I never should have pressured you into a marriage you did not want.
I let my concern for your physical well-being overshadow my desire to see you truly happy.
Your young man has come to see me. Demanded is more accurate.
I was not welcoming, and yet he insisted I listen to him.
The passion with which he fights for you is admirable.
It also reminds me of how I fought to be with your mother.
When I saw her dance, I fell in love. He says it was the same for him. How can I refuse that?
The night of the gala, I led him to believe that I would disown you if you did not marry Marco.
I hope you know me well enough to understand I would never have done that.
But it served my purpose to let him come to his own conclusions.
Again, I am very sorry. I am ashamed and disappointed in myself, as I am sure your mother would be if she were still here.
I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, but if you cannot, at least forgive Austin his mistake. He is not fully to blame, and he loves you. He will make you happy. He is your fairy tale, piccola principessa.
Ti amo,
Papà
My head is reeling, and as I read the words again they begin to blur from the tears filling my eyes.
The petals on the bed stir slightly, and it’s only then that I realize the French doors to my private balcony are open, inviting the soft summer breeze to play with the delicate petals.
There’s another path leading from the bed to the balcony, which I blindly follow, too overwhelmed to do anything other than see whatever this is through.
The stone balcony looks like something out of a story book, with candles grouped in clusters along the thick banister. Still clutching my father’s letter, I peer over the edge of the third-story drop and find…
Nothing. Just a manicured lawn that appears silver in the moonlight. Why do the petals lead out here if—
Then I feel it.
I feel him.
It’s been weeks since I’ve been in the same space as him, and yet I would recognize Austin’s presence if fifty years had passed. He’s in my blood, in my very bones. Familiar frissons of electricity race down my back like my skin is celebrating his nearness and begging for his touch.
“Good evening, princess.”
The breath I’d been holding shudders free as my eyes drift closed, squeezing out drops of hope and loss to slide down my cheeks. “What are you doing here, Austin?”
“I’ve come to claim what’s mine.”
His deep voice rumbles from behind me, low and sensual and confident, as though he already knows how this ends; as though my capitulation is a foregone conclusion and he’s here to simply collect his prize.
And what pisses me off is the fact that it turns me on.
His possessive nature draws me to him like a moth to a flame, despite knowing I’ll get burned if I get too close.
“I’m not your anything,” I bite back, fighting past the lump in my throat. “You walked out on me, remember?”
The tone of his voice softens, almost raspy with emotion. “It’s hard to forget the biggest mistake of my life.”
My heart swells for a split second before I puncture it with the one thing I need to remember…
He. Left. Me.
No real discussion, no attempt at a solution or compromise—just done.
I never thought Austin had any hang-ups, not serious ones.
I was so sure I’d found a man with confidence and integrity, someone who respected me as my own person and not only for what my name or father’s financial standing could do for him.
Someone who wanted to walk by my side in life but would carry me if I ever needed it.
And what’s been tearing me up inside is that I still believe he is all those things, and yet he chose to make up some bullshit about not being good enough for me and then walked away without a backward glance, shattering my heart in the process.
Steeling myself, I finally turn around and get my first look at the man who so easily crushed my soul over a month ago, and I freeze in shock.
Austin is standing in the doorway to the room in full firefighter bunker gear, from helmet to boots.
“Why are you here? And this time spare me the macho caveman answer.” Even though I like that answer, God help me.
Taking off his helmet, he holds it in front of him, his fingers blanching from the death grip he seems to have on it.
“A while back, I said that if your father ever locked you in a tower, I’d come to your rescue.
But when it came down to it, I failed you, Emi.
I tucked tail and ran away like a fucking coward, and I’ve never been more ashamed of anything in my life. ”
Regret shines in his eyes, and it nearly breaks my resolve to stay where I am. “So, then what is all this?”
“This is me trying to give you the fairy tale you deserve. That letter in your hand is me slaying your dragon, though not like you think. In this case, the dragon is the wedge between you and your father. I know how much he means to you, Emi, and I know this rift is probably eating you up inside.” My pride wants to deny that I’m hurting at all, but I can barely swallow around the lump in my throat, much less get out the weak lie.
“I’m not excusing his actions, but his heart was in the right place. ”
Dropping my gaze to the letter, my eyes are drawn to the part that keeps echoing in my mind. I led him to believe that I would disown you…
“As was yours, it would seem.”
“If you’d ended up like my mother, I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself.”
I nod, understanding how difficult that decision must have been for him. He knew how scared I was of losing my father. Asking me to choose him over my only living parent would have felt selfish and cruel to a man like Austin, and those are two things he has never been.
“It doesn’t excuse my actions, either, Emi. I realized that after I had time to settle down and think about the situation. I should have told you everything. I should have come to you with the problem so we could figure out a solution together, not decide what I thought was best for you.”
“Yes,” I say, “you should have. What you and my father have failed to understand is that I’m not a damsel in distress. I don’t need to be saved.”
“No, you don’t,” he says, hanging his helmet on one of the French door knobs. “You saved yourself, baby, and I’m so fucking proud of you.”
I watch as he starts to undo the front of his heavy coat, the reflective strips flashing from the candlelight as he moves.
Now that I’m not on the edge of an emotional meltdown, seeing him in his firefighter stuff is igniting a more physical reaction in me.
Clearing my throat, I ask, “Why are you dressed like that?”
A hint of a smile tugs at one corner of his mouth. “My gear is the closest thing I have to shining armor. And even though you don’t need saving, I’d still like to be your hero, princess.”
Ah hell. There’s no stopping the moisture building up behind my eyes now.
This man always manages to say the sweetest things to make my heart melt.
If I thought it was just cheesy lip service, it wouldn’t affect me in the slightest. But Austin Massey doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean; it’s all right there in his light-green eyes.
“But we both know that I don’t only want to be your hero…”
My breath catches as he removes the coat to reveal his naked upper body, which is now covered in tattoos across his chest and shoulders. It’s too much to take in all the details at once, but what stands out are the ravens in flight on each of his pecs.
“Underneath all that, I want to be your villain,” he says. “I want to be the man who fulfills your darkest fantasies with the careful brutality I know you crave. I want to be the man who possesses you in the dark of night and then worships you in the light of day.”
He steps out of his bunker pants and boots, then walks toward me in nothing but a pair of worn black jeans with frayed holes in the knees and the black ink decorating his chest. His movements are lithe, and his muscles sleek as they shift beneath his skin; a panther on the prowl and looking every inch the sexy badass he claims to be as he comes to stand behind me.
My body shivers with anticipation. Every cell in my body is tingling, waiting.
I know this man. It’s not a question of if he touches me, but when.
Then I feel it. The light drag of his fingertips down the side of my neck…
I melt. Tension leaches from my muscles faster than any massage could ever do, and it’s not fair.
It’s not fair that he still has the power to center me with a single touch.
I hear him breathe a deep sigh, a long exhalation of satisfaction or maybe contentment.
“That’s my girl,” he rumbles in my ear, and I realize he wasn’t the one who sighed. It was me. “You were meant for me. My princess and my doll. You’re mine, Emi.”